


Starved Heart

by jlavisant



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood, Other, Self-Harm, Touch-Starved, sorry it's not porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 23:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlavisant/pseuds/jlavisant
Summary: The Chancellor of Niflheim is a cool-headed and meticulous man, but there's something buried beneath his lust for revenge; a yearning for affection.





	Starved Heart

**Author's Note:**

> From a random anon prompt I received on Tumblr which simply said "touch starved Ardyn" and suddenly got some gears rolling in my head and turned into this little drabble that... I'm kind of proud of, even if I hated it at first. It was fun and allowed me to try and figure out what's going on in Ardyn's head (assuming it's not just an on fire hamster in a spinning wheel of death)

                It was a trivial matter what had Ardyn Izunia, the High Chancellor of Niflheim, in the men’s bathroom, feverishly splashing cold water into his face at this moment. Or certainly most would consider it such. They’d laugh if they knew, he was sure, and he worried they’d all figured it out after the scene that had just previously taken place.

                Not even ten minutes ago, he was sitting at a large table with the likes of Research Chief Verstael Besithia, Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret, and even Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt himself. At least it had been ten minutes since he halted the flow of time and took off to collect himself. They were otherwise unaware, trapped in a singular moment. But surely they had seen enough. Stopping time was easy, but going back? If he were able, things would be very different now.

                Their meeting had not even begun. He was slouched in his chair, hands clasped together over his chest, while other officials were still arriving. These meetings were droll and ultimately pointless to Ardyn, but playing his part required his attendance. Besides, there were times he’d find amusement at the expense of the Commander. Even if Ravus didn’t show it, he was incredibly easy to annoy, and Ardyn so loved pushing buttons on someone so stiff-lipped. Last time Ardyn had used his time manipulation to wander over and disorganize his papers, then sat down again to watch Ravus furiously flip through to find what he needed. When Iedolas had warned Ravus to keep his documents in order, Ardyn had to pinch his own wrist to keep from bursting out laughing. While petty and even juvenile, it was a small pleasure he found in his overextended lifespan.

                Today, however, he hadn’t even gotten the chance to spoil Ravus’s day. Not before the secretary leaned over him to set his coffee down, and her fingers had grazed over his own on her way back up. Ardyn reacted immediately, sucking in a breath and bristling up noticeably. The woman was terribly friendly, though, and had then gripped him gently by the shoulder and joked “Didn’t mean to scare you, Chancellor.” He merely glanced up towards her, jaw somewhat slacked open, while what felt like the softest electricity fluttered through him. It was as if his veins had filled with air, making him feel like he was floating. His entire nervous system seemed to be alight. It was _unbearable_ , and yet, positively euphoric.

                “Something amiss, Chancellor?” Ravus’s voice suddenly cut through the daze Ardyn found himself slipping into, forcing him to jolt upright. The Commander was smirking at him, his chin resting on his folded hands, elbows on the table, obviously enjoying the sight of Ardyn’s discomfort.

                And that was when Ardyn had made use of his daemonic abilities to bring the passage of time to a firm halt. Turning on his heel, he made a swift retreat, his long black coat billowing behind him in his purposeful stride to the restroom.

                He leaned against the porcelain sink, panting while his head hung below his shoulders. Perhaps mortals knew the value of skin to skin contact, but nobody could understand how very different it felt to him. For ages he’d lived alone amongst them, deprived of their affection. For they’d once betrayed him and he would never forgive humankind for their transgressions. Their commitment to fear, and aversion to empathy. And with the prophecy finally on its way to the finale, he was determined to make every last one of them pay.

                This was clear in his mind; but his body, though infested with the scourge, was still fallibly human at its core. Soon as Ardyn had felt that gentle brush against his skin, a chain reaction had been started. After over 2,000 years of life, nothing felt like “only yesterday” as mortals would exclaim. But now, he sorely remembered lying in his lover’s arms, their fingers stroking along his jaw. Bathed in the warm light of dawn, the two of them tangled in each other’s arms, simply being together while they could.

                However, the years, and certainly the daemons festering within him, had taken their toll. He could no longer put a face, a name, or even a body to the one that held him so sweetly. But certainly it was a true memory.

                Ardyn wrapped his hand around his neck, choking out his own breath, attempting to bring himself back to the present. Yet he still found himself craving more of that touch. So he brandished his dagger and rolled his sleeve up, piercing into his forearm with no hesitation. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears suddenly pouring down his cheeks. “Gods be damned… _all of you be damned_!” Ardyn hissed and dug the blade further in, blood running in streams from the wound, pooling onto the tile floor. And _yet_ he _still_ ….

                The dagger was thrown violently across the room, splattering more blood on its way. Ardyn pressed his back against the wall, breathing hard and sobbing hoarsely. If only someone were to come to him now, take him into their arms, and ease this ache for affection. He imagined it, and then immediately cursed himself. _How pitiful are you?_ he thought of himself. _Like some kind of mewling mortal? You deserve revenge!_

Finally, after some time of berating himself for his weakness, his breath had calmed and his nerves felt heavy. The wound had already healed up, though blood still decorated the area. While it certainly felt demeaning to clean up after himself (that was for mortals to do for him), he swallowed his abundant pride to do the deed before returning to the meeting.

                Everyone was exactly as he’d left them. Iedolas in mid-sentence, Verstael collecting a pile of folders, and Ravus smugly looking at Ardyn’s now empty chair. Perhaps they weren’t all on to him. Just the Commander.

                “Well, how about we have a little fun?” Ardyn proposed to himself, to which he delightfully agreed with a mischievous grin.


End file.
